When she’d gotten old enough to do so, she’d gone into the surrounding mountains to supplement the little blood they received from humans with that of animals. She’d always brought it back to share with the younger children. Before she’d been able to go into the mountains on her own, the older children of the home had done the same for her and the others who had lived here. It had always been the older children, taking care of the younger, that had made it possible for them to survive. As the older kids aged and moved on, a new set rose up to take their place.
For years she’d never spared a thought for how the humans were treated in their town. She’d been too focused on her own plight to consider theirs. However, she’d gotten to know the humans of the town better over the last year and a half, and she didn’t like the idea of any of them being mistreated. Never mind being locked within the blood bank going through tortures or something else she didn’t like to imagine. The humans hadn’t been taken away because they were going to be treated well, of that much she was certain.
The queen who had once been human wouldn’t lock them all away, would she?
There was that urge to bang her head against the window again as she fought the tremor working its way through her body. She didn’t know who the woman she’d seen was, who these vampires were in her town, but she doubted they were what they claimed to be. She had to find a way to learn what they were doing here.
Amongst the white cloaks, she spotted varied colors of clothing, plus a few familiar faces from town. The men who had stayed here last night had never said they couldn’t go outside. If she was stopped on the street, she could always claim she was going to her home to retrieve some of her things.
“I’m going to go and see if I can find out what is happening.” Turning, she rested her free hand on Agnes’s shoulder before prying the three year old’s bone crushing grip from her other hand.
“Wait!” Agnes cried and grabbed for her, but she kept her held back and nudged her toward Abbott.
He bent and lifted Agnes into his arms. Tempest walked into the hall, grabbed her black wool cloak, and secured it around her shoulders. The men who had invaded their home last night had gone out this morning, but the ugly one with the scar had told her they would be returning tonight.
She tugged the hood up over her head, opened the door, and stepped into the swirling snow. No flakes fell from the sky, but the wind whipping down from the peaks surrounding their valley caused the snow on the ground to swirl about her feet. She’d always loved the remoteness of their village, their lack of contact with the outside world, but she now feared what she’d always cherished about her town may now be its downfall.
Standing in the light of day, she realized her earlier estimates about how many vampires had arrived were way off. There were at least a thousand strangers patrolling the streets. All of them were wearing white cloaks and clothes that blended in with the landscape around them. Glancing at the mountains on all sides of them, some less than a half a mile away, she could see more vampires walking amongst the trails and outside of the caves carved into the faces of the cliffs.
She’d spent most of her childhood exploring these mountains; she knew how treacherous and capricious they could be. There were many hiding places within them. Places where the invading vampires could lay in wait and places where those fleeing this village may be able to hide. Trails out of the mountains that these strangers might uncover, but they would never be able to discover the exact pathways to freedom.
She knew the nooks and crannies of these mountains like the back of her hand. She knew their trails and peaks and had once wandered over the side of a cliff that dropped off suddenly around the corner of a trail. She’d suffered two broken legs and numerous broken ribs from the fall, but she’d healed and returned to exploring again two weeks later.
The shudder running through her had nothing to do with the chill in the air, and everything to do with the pit in her stomach as she stared at the intruders now patrolling her mountains. Few, if any, knew these mountains as well as she did. While others had casually explored them, she’d lived and breathed them. There’d also been many places to hide from the beatings that at times had been commonplace within the orphanage.
Perhaps, if she’d been more daring, she would have fled into the mountains and never looked back, but she’d only seen the world outside of this valley a handful of times before. It had been far too large and imposing for her liking. Besides if she had taken off, it would have been one less vampire to help take care of the younger children.
Despite the warmth of her cloak, she felt like ice as she placed one foot in front of the other. Her black cloak stood out starkly amongst the sea of white surrounding her. Some turned to look at her, most ignored her. Making her way toward the stocks, she was finally rewarded with a reaction as three of the invaders stepped in front of the vampires locked within them.
“What do you want?” one of them demanded.
Tempest glanced at the men and woman locked into the wooden stands. She tried, but she couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen anyone bound in these stocks. Two of the men lifted their heads to look at her; she recognized them instantly as the magistrates of the town. The positions they held were appointed by the new king when his troops had come into town after the war.
Another man lifted his head. Tempest’s eyes widened when she saw the insignia of the king on his cloak. Every once in a while, a passing member of the king’s troops would travel through here to make sure the new laws were being followed. They never stayed long, but they’d always worn the wolf insignia upon their cloaks. Tempest kept her eyes on the prisoner; she didn’t look at the three men standing guard before her closely enough to see if they were also wearing the king’s wolf insignia.
She already knew they weren’t. She hadn’t seen it on any of the men who had entered the orphanage; she just hadn’t realized it until now. If these men had been willing to do this to one of the king’s men, what would they do to any member of this village? And who had sent them all here if it hadn’t been the king? Had it been the queen? Had something happened between the two of them that had turned one against the other?
“Get out of here,” another one of the men in white told her. “Unless you plan to join them.”
Tempest took a step away as the other two heads in the stocks looked up at her. They were residents she recognized from town, she didn’t know what they’d done to deserve this, but she didn’t want to join them. She’d never been one to make waves. If she had as a child, she would have been killed, as an adult she’d retained the air of invisibility and compliance that had allowed her to survive, until now.
Making her way down the street, she glanced at the gingerbread houses, chalets, and log cabins lining the snow covered roadway. Normally the homes had a quaint, warm air about them that always made her smile. Now the homes felt cold and lifeless; sadness and uncertainty enshrouded the buildings. The strangers who had inserted themselves into their world had stifled the life and laughter once filling them.
Turning onto the next road, she made her way past the shops on the sides of the street. Most of them had more men and women in white standing outside of their doorways. She walked until she arrived at the small red and white gingerbread house she shared with her best friend and fellow ex-orphan, Pallas. They had both aged out of the orphanage three years ago, when they’d turned seventeen.
Tempest hurried toward the door. Her hand shook when she turned the knob and cautiously poked her head inside. Shadows slid over the walls as the trees outside swayed in the howling wind. Tempest stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She pulled back the hood of her cloak as she moved further into the home.
Glancing into the living room, her gaze traveled over the couch and scratched wooden table within. Pallas’s pay from working at the blood bank, and her meager wages from the orphanage didn’t allow them to be able to afford much, but they were both happy here. It was the first secure house either of t
hem had ever known, and they’d spent a lot of time turning it into a home with their assorted snow globe collection, Pallas’s beautifully sewn baby blue curtains, and the numerous green ferns Tempest had gathered and planted in the summer.
“Pallas!” she called nervously into the home.
Silence greeted her. Walking further into the home, she peered into Pallas’s room before her own. Everything was as she’d left it, except her clover green comforter had been tossed back, and an indent of someone’s head was still in her pillow. They’d come here too, Tempest realized as she moved into the room to fix the comforter. Her fingers ran over the soft material as she pulled it into place. She’d throw the pillow out if she ever got a chance to return home, but she doubted that would happen.
Glancing up, she caught her pale reflection in the mirror across the way. She wasn’t astonished to find shadows encircling her deep brown eyes. Turning away, she walked to her trunk and pulled a few articles of clothing free. She had a feeling they wouldn’t be allowed to roam the town for much longer and wanted to gather some more of her things while she still could. She placed the clothes into a sack and tugged the drawstring closed.
She pulled the hood over her head before leaving the house and walking toward the blood bank. It was the only other place she could think of that Pallas would be. There were over a dozen men and women in white standing on the steps of the large chalet renovated into the blood bank after the war. She’d placed one foot on the first step when two men moved to intercept her.
“No one will be entering today,” one of them informed her briskly.
“I’m only looking for my friend,” she replied. “She works here.”
“No one is entering today.”
Tempest glanced at the closed front doors, but she removed her foot from the step. If Pallas wasn’t in there, then where was she? And if they weren’t allowed to enter the blood bank, and these troops had captured all of the humans, how were they going to survive?
Uneasiness had been eating at her since these vampires had invaded her town, but now true terror began to slither through her stomach. Nausea twisted in her gut; she retreated further from the blood bank and toward the businesses. Her gaze slid over the men and women patrolling high up in the mountains again.
They were trapped here. The solitary air she’d always loved about the town now worked completely against them. It would be almost impossible for anyone to move in and out of the valley without being spotted from above. Almost impossible, she contemplated as she continued down the street. She could find a way out of here; the only problem was she didn’t know if she was brave enough to attempt it.
She passed other residents of the town as she made her way back toward the orphanage. Her step faltered when she spotted the blockade at the far end of the road. The street they had barricaded was the easiest and fastest way out of town; there were no homes beyond the barricade. There was only miles of uninhabited valley and mountains rarely traversed by the outside world.
She didn’t have to look behind the hotel to know the mountain road, the only other way out of town, would also be blocked. The mountain road was far less traveled on a normal day. It was more hazardous than the main road as it wound through steep mountain passes. In the winter, rockslides often blocked the passage until spring.
Staring at the line of men and women in the white cloaks, stretching from one mountain to another across the road, her hands clenched as she fought the urge to lift her fingers and start gnawing on her nails. It was a habit she’d battled for years, but she couldn’t quite shake it.
She was almost back to the orphanage when the door opened and a head popped out. Tempest’s shoulders slouched; she forced herself to walk calmly when she spotted Pallas standing in the doorway. She was afraid she would be tackled into the snow by someone in white if she started running. Picking up her pace, she hurried through the snow to the open door of the orphanage.
“There you are,” she breathed.
She nudged Pallas back inside before embracing her friend. Pallas was five inches shorter than she was. She was also a lot more voluptuous with breasts so ample Tempest could barely get her arms around her. Pallas hugged her back before stepping away. Pallas’s thin brown hair hung in wispy strands around her pretty, oval-shaped face.
“Where were you?” Pallas demanded.
“Looking for you, and trying to figure out what is going on.” Tempest shrugged out of her cloak as Abbott and the other children appeared in the doorway. “Why don’t you take the younger children upstairs, Nora,” she suggested.
Nora’s blue eyes darted around before she gave a brief nod and gestured for the younger boys and Agnes to go upstairs. Tempest motioned toward the living room, glancing back to make sure the children were out of earshot before following Pallas and Abbott inside. Far larger than her home, the living room of the orphanage had two couches, a love seat, and a large coffee table in the center of the room.
A piano, tucked into the corner, had remained untouched since she’d been a little girl. The one child who had known how to play it had aged out and moved on from the town years ago. She had no idea who the vampires were in the portraits lining the walls; they’d been here decades before she had.
To the left of the living room was the dining room with a table that could seat twenty vampires around it. She’d spent a fair number of nights sitting at the table, hoping to be fed, but going to bed hungry. More recently, she’d often sat at the table to play games and laugh with the children. Over the past year and a half, she’d started to believe these children would never have to experience hunger again, but now she suspected she’d been wrong.
Closing the sliding doors separating the living room from the hall, she pressed an ear to them before being satisfied the children weren’t creeping down the stairs to listen to their conversation. She turned to Abbott and Pallas and hurried to join them near the front windows.
“Do you know what is going on?” she asked Pallas.
Pallas tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. “No. They knocked on our door last night and told me I had to house two of them.”
Tempest glanced at the window as a half-dozen horses trotted by, heading toward the hotel at the end of the road. “We have three staying here,” she murmured, watching as the riders dismounted and hurried inside. “They said it was on the queen’s orders.”
“That’s what they told me too, but it can’t be true.”
Pallas’s words caught her attention. “Why not?” she inquired.
Pallas stepped closer and cast her voice low. She wrung her hands nervously before her as she looked between the two of them and began to speak, “The queen was a human. I can’t see her treating humans so poorly. When I told them I worked at the blood bank, they took me there this morning to show them how things ran. All of the humans are locked within there. Some of them are hooked up to needles and containers like the ones used before the new king took power. Why would the queen bring that practice back now and turn it on the humans? She fought so relentlessly to free them from their oppression before becoming the vampire queen. She was a rebel and a blood slave herself, Tempest. None of it makes any sense to me.”
Tempest felt as if the world slowed as more horses pranced down the road. She’d heard those same things about the queen, but had all the rumors been wrong? She didn’t understand how that could be possible. Some of the stories were probably wrong, yes, but she couldn’t see all of them being wrong, and with the more compassionate treatment of humans recently, she knew they couldn’t be.
“Who is she then?” she pondered aloud.
“I don’t know, but she has a lot of followers,” Pallas replied.
Tempest studied the mountains looming over their town. “Someone has to get out of here, and get help,” she murmured.
- CHAPTER 6 -
William spent the next two weeks moving from town to town in search of the man who had ended his life. Night was descending when he rode his horse
into a small town nestled into a small cropping of mountains. In the distance, a larger mountain chain stretched high into the sky; he’d look there next if he found no hint of Kane within this town.
He tossed his reins to the stable boy who rushed up to greet him and gave him a small gold coin. “I’ll take real good care of him sir!” the boy gushed out.
“Hold on.” William dug into his money purse and pulled out another coin. “I need someone to send word back to the town of Chippman for me.”
He didn’t know if Aria and Braith were still there, but Jack would be able to get in touch with them if they weren’t. The boy’s eyes fixed on the coin. “My brother can sir.”
“Bring him to me.”
“I will.” The boy hurried away with Achilles. William stood in the doorway of the stable, staring out at the distant mountains. A shuffle of feet alerted him to the return of the two boys. The second one was an older vampire of maybe fourteen or fifteen. William handed the coin to the older boy. Both children stared at it with hungry eyes.
“You are to go to Chippman and find Jack or Aria; tell them William is well. There will be two more gold coins there for you if you do.”
The older boy nodded eagerly and slipped the coin into his pocket. The promise of two gold coins would annoy Jack, an added bonus in his mind, but it would also guarantee the boy completed his mission.
“I’ll leave now, sir,” the boy said eagerly.
“Good.” William stepped into the snow floating down in lazy spirals. Walking down the street, he stopped outside of the tavern before walking up the stairs and opening the door. A few heads turned in his direction, but most remained focused on their games or conversations. He took in all of the faces, but Kane’s ugly mug wasn’t amongst the sparse crowd.
He barely glanced around the interior. He’d been in hundreds of taverns over the years; they had all blurred into the same picture in his mind. They all had dim lighting with candles placed around the tables. There was always a card or dice game going on amongst the patrons. Ale flowed freely, as did the women. A fire crackled in the large fireplace across from him; the heat of it warmed the small, smoke-filled building. Pulling his cloak off, he draped it over the back of a chair before sliding into it.